Special Agent: Callsign Archer
by General-Jingwei
Summary: Special Agent Ray Giles is working for a Task Force- a very special Task Force, called the 141. When one too many things is asked of him, will he lose himself in his work, or keep his human side alive? ON INDEFINITE HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

Archer is my name. My old life? It no longer exists. It was stolen by the RAF and then the Task Force. It had happened… so fast.

America had been assisting the UK with a bit of a problem. The OpFor? Russia and her new-found ally, Germany. The first problem had occurred when a Russian plane was spotted over restricted United Kingdom airspace. We brought her down somewhere near an air force base named Blerten, and the pilot looked nervous.

When asked, he simply said that this was a routine training run for a new prototype of fighter jet, and he was supposed to fly a few more miles south before returning to base. Upon closer inspection, however, this jet was a stealth fighter that had made a malfunction. The Sukhoi T-230 had some kind of special coating that made it invisible to radar and used mirrors to refract light.

One of the mirrors had broken and crashed the entire system. We had seen it. Precisely three hours after the base had made her land, it was assaulted. Russian commandos had come in on motorcycles and helicopters. I was on that base.

Year: Unknown

Month: March

Day: 12

Location: Blerten AFB

SitRep: Helicopter blades are heard over the air force base. Not wanting to cause unnecessary trouble, the staff simply wave the helicopters down and attempt to communicate. However, a continuous stream of white noise comes from the radio. Special Operative Ray Giles, call sign Archer, is on base. He is a sniper and explosives specialist. After taking a position on the roof, he turns on his headset and waits for an order…

I settled into a prone position and surveyed the area. I was atop the roof of a comms building, flat and rectangular. The edges of the roof are raised about three inches up, as if it was lined by bricks. It was a perfect position for a M14 EBR with a 3-9x50 Millimeter dot scope. Mine. I could clearly see the four helicopters moving in and could see the ten motorcycles moving down the road. Not an army, but a significant force, with fifteen soldiers per chopper and two per motorcycle. That's eighty in all… a Russian team using guerilla tactics.

I clicked the small headset attached to my ear, allowing me to receive any radio signals beamed my way. I sighed, looking at the helicopters and motorcycles approaching. It had all started with a stealth jet… trying to get some intel on us? I don't know, and I don't think I ever will.

"Oh, _shit,_" I mumbled, glaring through my scope at the soldiers armed with what looked like Kedr PP-91 submachine guns with red dot sights attached beginning to rappel out of the choppers. I also saw the soldiers on the bikes pull Klin PP-9 submachine guns off of their backs and aim, one hand on the wheel and one on the weapon.

Tapping my headset once more, I asked, "Sir, what the hell is happening down there? Permission to open fire?"

I heard the General on base mutter, "Uh, that is an affirmative. Russian black ops teams are moving on our location, provide sniper support and disable mobile units, over."

"Yes, sir, should I work on helicopter pilots or motorcycles?"

"Engage the pilots first, Archer, and haul ass to do it. Try to take them out before the soldiers can finish dropping. Multiple casualties can be attained. Over and out."

I clicked off my headset and took a deep breath, steadying myself. Pressing my cheek to the stock of my rifle, I aimed through the cockpit of the nearest chopper, which had come to a stop in order to drop troops. I prayed that the bullet would be able to penetrate the glass, and realized that my silencer wasn't on. That gives me a better chance, at least. Along with the FMJ.

My finger squeezed the trigger as I slowly released my breath. The bullet took exactly nine-tenths of a second to travel to the windshield… and through the windshield to the pilot's head. He fell to the left and didn't release his grip on the stick, bringing the entire chopper spiraling to the lower-left. Two soldiers had made it out, and fifteen had been killed, including the pilot and co-pilot.

"Chyort! Sniper!" I heard from the ground. Grasping my weapon by the barrel, I rolled away from the edge, to where only the choppers could see me. I reached around to my back and removed a China Lake from a holster.

"Come on, Amy," I whispered. Yes, I named my cold war era weapon Amy. Aiming it carefully at the helicopter on the edge of the group, I saw that I had lost some time. This chopper had five men on the ground with the other ten on the ropes. "Shite," I mumbled, firing the grenade at the center of the helicopter. Direct hit! It went straight down and rained debris upon the Russians. Body count: thirty-two killed, by me alone. More by the others. An explosion rocked a nearby hangar… the one we were keeping the prototype in!

"Sir, the Russians have destroyed the prototype! The bikes are pulling out and the two helicopters have picked up the troops. They're preparing for dustoff. What do you advise?" As I spoke, I crawled back to the edge and frowned at the troops running into the now grounded choppers.

"Archer, forget the Russians. We killed just over half of them… thanks to you, mostly. Our ground troops were pretty useless, and we lost ten men. Still, they weren't sent to kill, but instead to destroy the Sukhoi. They achieved that goal, and there's no way to change that. I need you to come down to the command bunker. We have one General Shepherd waiting to talk to you. Over and out."

Hm. I'd heard whispers of the General. He was making some kind of task force or something… hm. Don't get too excited, Giles, I told myself. If he asks you to join the TaskForce, say yes… you know you want to.

I climbed down the ladder and looked at the retreating helicopters. We may have lost this one, but we had definitely done our fair share of winning.

* * *

Author's annotation (Because I can't just say note XD) So, what did you think? Not much is known about Archer, considering he only appears in one level and may or may not be KIA. Anyway, please review. Oh, and snipers are BOMB. Just wanted to point that out.


	2. The Task Force

I entered the command bunker and saw a man sitting at a long table, on the end far from me. The only other chair was at the end closest to me. "Sit down, son," he said, his voice deep and nearly gravelly. "I saw your work out there. You certainly know your way around that sniper, and the China Lake, as well… It's not often you see that weapon in use. Now that we have the Thumper, I mean."

Swallowing, I stuttered, "A-Amy is my girl. Been with me since I started, sir. Pleasantries are pleasant, but down to business. You wanted to see me?"

General Shepherd got up and walked over to my end of the table, chomping down on his cigar. Glancing at his waistline, I saw the tell-tale silver gleam of a .44 Magnum. Wow, this guy's both old and old-fashioned.

He took the cigar out of his mouth and held it out to me. "Do you smoke, Mr. Giles?"

"No, sir."

"Drink?"

"No, sir."

"Do any drugs lately?"

"Never, sir."

Shepherd put the cigar back in his mouth and muttered, "I see. So, Archer, what is wrong? You could be places right now, in the Pentagon working as a presidential bodyguard or something. Why do you still do field work out here in the middle of nowhere?"

I regarded the question seriously. I had wondered for a while, now, what else I could be doing. Other than guarding shitholes in the middle of no where, that is. "Sir, I was assigned here by- er, I was assigned here."

"Oh, I know about you. Part of a special division of the Royal Air Force, RAF to most, called Division Twelve. A "Twelve" is slang for a mission support, and that is exactly what you are. Division Twelve trains snipers, artillery men, demolition experts, bomb squads, bombers, hell, even scientist go there! But only the best of the best make it through selection. Only the best. So tell me, Archer, _are _you one of the best? Because if you are, I have a proposition for you."

I swallowed again, with a bit more nervousness this time. "Sir, you saw me out there. I suppose it's not for me to decide whether or not I truly am one of the 'best'."

Shepherd's eyes softened and his posture relaxed. "Good work, son, you passed the initial interview with flying colors. All right, I'm just going to come out and say it. I am assembling a task force. Call us the one four one. Yes, that suits us fine. Anyway, I would like to know how you feel about joining up. You certainly have the talent…"

I was truly nervous now, sweat like bullets pouring down my face. "Sir, I'll need to know more about this first, you understand…"

"Right. Well, we will be doing the missions no one else has the balls to do. In my opinion, we're the best of the best, and I think you are, too. We keep the callsigns, keep the hierarchy of ranks, but we don't answer to anyone but ourselves. We assist the Army Rangers, do odd jobs for the CIA, and go it alone occasionally. Assassinations aren't common, but will be undergone. We deal in espionage as well. I can't really tell you anything else unless you decide to join… so I need your answer, son. I'd like to give you more time, but time is something we can't afford. Especially right now."

This last sentence caught my attention. "Sir, tell me one more thing. If I join up today, what will I be doing?"

"Top secret. Ears only, Archer. We are assaulting a base on the edge of Russia. CIA and Pentagon say we need to hit back and hit hard. We know for a fact that they have a listening post covered in snow, not literally but mostly. We take out the guards, move inside and… I can tell you no more until you accept or deny."

"If I deny, sir?"

"If you choose not to join up, I will ask you politely to never speak of this again and probably put a watch on you for a bit."

"Sir." I stood and saluted. "I'd be honored to join your task force, sir. Will you take me on?"

General Shepherd smiled and extended his hand. "At ease, Archer. Welcome to the Task Force One Forty One."

**Year: Unknown**

**Month: March**

**Day: 13**

**Location: Temporary HQ near Russian Base**

**SitRep: Archer has boarded a helicopter and been taken to the Task Force Temporary HQ, an under-water building built into a cliff which leads up to the OpFor's base. The team plans to scale the cliff and move into the building, after finding a Sniper's Nest for Archer and his new partner, Dot. Dot is named this because his gun is painted with hundreds of miniscule dots, simple dabs of paint.**

**Loadout for snipers: Accuracy International AW-50 (manufactured in UK) using 12.7x99 mm caliber bullets. Used without a bipod to reduce weight and with a thermal scope to increase visibility. Silencer attached.**

**Loadout for assault soldiers: Enfield SA-80-IW with 4.84x49 mm caliber bullets. Full auto fire/burst fire. Red dot sight optional. Silencer attached.**

* * *

I looked out the window of our Temp HQ, the one not attached to the cliff face. We were supposed to move out at 0500, and it was 0450 now. Glancing to the bench near me, I picked up my rifle. It was fully white, simply to hide it in the snow. I picked up the oxygen mask next to it and placed it over my face, making sure to attach it fully. It would be horrible to move outside and breath in water…

The suit I was wearing was padded with some kind of special insulation. It kept body heat in, generated it's own heat, and let just enough cold in to prevent sweat. It was beautiful, really. Great idea on the British's part, gotta give us credit.

"Hey," Dot muttered, hopping over the bench to stand next to me. "We deploying through this window or what? I was told it was more than just a window by Shepherd. We walk up to it and an airlock cycles, letting us through and keeping the water out. All of us are going, me, you, Rolls, Tick, Flip, Spectre, Mech, and Lance. Six to breach, us two to snipe. Heard they found us a Nest with the UAV. We climb up a small incline and come to a mostly ruined building. Guess they haven't touched it because they can't make a use for it, and it's a bit far out from the base. Oh, one more thing."

He reached out and screwed some kind of lens to my forehead, and then tapped my visor. Instantly the mask was replaced with someone else's mask view. "Once we take off the mask, we unscrew it and reattach it to our goggles. We will be able to watch the assault once we can't do anything else, and if we ever get a person leaving the building we switch it off. The walls are too thick to penetrate with bullets, and that's why we can't… be any use once they're in."

I raised an eyebrow. "Task force's got some cool… shit. How long you been in?" Before he could reply, however, a single second's worth of klaxon sounded. I switched off the camera by pressing the small red button I had seen Dot press. "Never mind. Let's get to the airlock." I walked up to the window, placing my sniper in its waterproof case and attaching it to my back.

Rolls, Tick, Flip, Spectre, Lance, and Mech assembled as well. I turned to my left and nodded to Dot before switching on the radio inside my mask. I heard the General addressing us: "All right, Task Force, let's move out. Press against the window and I'll activate the airlock." We pressed up against the window and saw the large metal wall close behind us. The window slid open with a pneumatic-sounding hiss, pushing us out into the cold, unforgiving ocean.

I swiveled and noticed the window re-close and a hole open in the bottom. Not caring enough to watch the water gush out, I turned to Dot.

"Sound off," Rolls said. "I'll be in charge this mission."

"Tick reporting."

"Lance reporting."

"Spectre reporting."

"Flip reporting."

"Mech reporting."

"Dot reporting."

"Ar-Archer reporting."

Damn it, I had stuttered! I was just nervous…

"Alright, team," Rolls began, not seeming to notice my discomfort, "We're breaking surface. Move up." He gestured upward with his thumb and we swam up as a group, scattering a school of fish. On the way up, I noted a small loading bar in the far corner of my visor. Frowning, I examined it.

"Rolls, sir," I began. "what's that in the corner of my visor?"

"That's called a TacMap. It'll display enemy locations for you, and it should be coming up about now. You can display it full screen by tapping it on the visor, and move it back to the corner with another tap. It's a virtual spotter. Unfortunately, it relies on a non-thermal UAV, so it'll be useless this mission. We just loaded it to get it over with, it'll be on your goggles, too."

I nodded, noting the loading bar disappearing and a small square covered in white blankness taking its place.

"Red dots are enemy, green are friendly." as he spoke, we broke the surface and I instinctively took a deep breath, making me sound stupid over the radio. "Alright, team, you are not to remove the masks yet. You all have the goggles in a pouch on your waist, but we need these for now. If you touch your left shoulder, you'll feel two ice picks. Take them out and approach the cliff face."

I un-strapped the two white picks from my shoulder and began climbing the cliff face. It was certainly icy, and the picks went into the rock itself as well. Using small protruding ledges as footholds, I began to make progress with the cliff. I could see why we needed to keep the visors on; falling could be deadly, and if it wasn't the next cause of death would be suffocation.

I turned to view my teammates, myself being on the farthest right, and saw that only Dot was above me. Catching my look, he grinned and nodded upward. I smiled and nodded back… and we began going faster, racing. I was just about to overtake him when he slipped on a foothold. "Fuck!" he screamed, falling down the sheer rock face. Damn.

"Rolls! Dot's down!"

"I see that, Archer! Dot, realign yourself and come back to the surface! Dot, please god respond!"

I waited about thirteen seconds, and was just about to begin sobbing when I heard, very faintly, "Fuckin' A! I got my foot caught in some coral or some shit! I can see blood coming… wait a second. What the FUCK?"

I saw a cloud of some yellow fish swarming him. "Dot! I'm coming in!" I screamed, tearing my picks from the cliff before slipping off my footholds, barely managing to turn myself before I hit the water. I had streamlined my body so the land didn't hurt, but that didn't mean it wasn't a shocker.

I heard a voice calling my name, and Rolls screamed, "Archer, get the hell out of there! Damn it, Archer, we have to proceed with the mission!"

"Sir, you can go on. As soon as we get back up we'll provide sniper support!"

"Fucker, we can't go up without you taking out the guards! There aren't any close enough to hear the splashes at five AM, so hurry up!"

I looked down and saw that the yellow cloud of fish were piranhas attracted by the blood. Crap. Wielding my ice picks like axes, I went in swinging and slicing up piranhas, the blood clouding the water to the point of blindness. I felt a bite on my arm and slashed, cutting through a piranha and feeling it hook on something. Using the other one as I tried to rip it out, I realized the swarm had stopped.

Wiping off the blood coating my visor, I looked at the coral entrapping his leg. Hacking at it with my picks, I offered him my hand. "C'mon, mate. We got more work to do, and the guys up topside aren't to pleased."

Dot looked up at me, mouth open. "How the bloody hell did you just… screw it, we gotta move."

"Sounds like you worked everything out, assholes. Now, if you don't mind returning to the mission at hand?" A very pissed-off Royce was on the verge of screaming. Crap.

"Yes sir, we're coming back up." I nodded to Dot and we clambered back up the side of the cliff. Royce nodded to us curtly and we proceeded back up to the Spetsnaz listening post, for that was what this had to be. On the very edge of the bordering territories? Ha. Nice placement.

Once we reached the top, Royce nodded to me and Dot. We scrambled over the edge and rose to a crouch, removing our masks. For a couple of seconds, visibility was zero because of the roaring blizzard. We put on our goggles, which were really just visors that cover our eyes and nose. They also had a headset. After glancing from side to side, I activated the night vision attachment. Suddenly, I could see! I looked straight ahead and saw a single-man patrol, armed with what appeared to be an AN-94 "Abakan" assault rifle. Top-of-the-line model.

"One tango," I muttered to Dot. "Armed with assault rifle. I'm taking him out now." My silenced sniper made barely a sound as the bullet was fired. It found it's target, burying itself deep in the man's ear, coming out of the other side of his head. "Tango down. We should be clear to move to the house. Assault team, move up and stay silent."

I looked at Dot and jerked my head to the right, staying low and dashing to the house. He followed close behind, and once we were safe on the second floor of the house, which looked like the roof because it had no walls, we looked back at our team. Most had taken off the masks by now, and they were all lying prone on the ground.

"Sniper team lead to assault team lead, we will identify targets for you and pick them off." I spoke to them over the radio.

I heard the reply from Rolls, "Affirmative sniper lead, we will wait." Now that we were out of the water, it was all business.

Shutting off the radio, I turned to Dot. "I see three on the roof, can you confirm that?"

"Yeah, I can. I see two to the right side of the building, can you confirm that?"

"Looks like two with a dog, actually. Other than that, yeah. I see one looking out through a window, confirm."

"Yeah, I see him too. I don't see any more outside, do you?"

"Nope. Let's do what we're paid for, shall we? Oh, crap. We need to tell them that we have a blindspot."

"Uh, do we?" Dot asked. Wow, he must be new as well, because I couldn't see anything on the left side of the listening post.

"Yes," I replied tersely. "the whole left side of the building. Dot, snap out of it. You must be good if you got this position." It was a gentle rebuke. Turning my radio back on, I muttered, "We have six men we can hit and one dog. Unfortunately, we can't see the left side of the station. I need you guys to find some cover and move to the left side. You'll need to take them out on your own. For now, just find them and wait."

"Assault team lead hears you. Moving now. Proceed to take out targets, sniper team."


	3. First Mission Shakes

Alright. "Now, Dot, we can do this. Let's start with the ones on the roof. Sitting around a trash can fire. Looks like one's smoking a cigar, and the other two are just sitting there talking. I can hit those two with one shot, can you hit the smoker?"

"Yeah, Archer. Let's go."

I took my goggles off and gazed through my scope, watching the fuzz turn to defined shapes. It would be tricky, but I could hit one in the back of the head and the bullet should hit the other in the front. I took careful aim, breathed deeply, and… fired. I couldn't see the men fall because they blinked off my scope as soon as they were downed, taken by the blizzard, but I could tell that they did. A few milliseconds later, the other man fell.

"Nice shot, Dot. Hey, I should say that more often. It rhymes."

"Don't be a dick, man."

"Sorry. Reflex. Anyway, Let's hit the ones on the right. If I take out the soldier, can you hit the dog and handler?"

Dot bit his lower lip, cracking his neck. "I think… I can. Yes, I can." I glanced over at his fingers, gripping the weapon tightly. His hands were steady; good. As long as he wasn't shaking, he could take the shot.

I clicked my radio once more. "Tangos on the roof neutralized. Firing at targets on the right side. Is assault team in position?"

I heard the reply come back, "Yes, assault team one is in position. Sniper team one, you have a go to take out tangos on the right hand side. Assault lead, out."

Aiming down my scope, I took a deep breath, enjoying the cold, crisp air. I centered my sight on the soldier nearest the wall. "On my mark. Three. Two. One… mark!" I fired, my weapon slightly jumping back against my shoulder. Dot fired, too, and the handler fell to the ground. My target died as well, and I saw the dog quickly look from left to right. Its ears perked up, and its tail was rigid behind it.

"Dot, fire!" He had frozen, and was still glaring out through his scope. "Dot! Do it!" I centered my own sights on the dog and fired. The dog fell, but I hadn't hit the head. Instead, the poor thing was bleeding on the floor and dying slowly… and whining. Loudly. I shot the dog again and waited, praying… no men came out. Alright, that's a good sign at least.

I turned to my partner. "Dot! What the _hell_ did you just do? We could've alerted the whole base if that damn dog started barking!" Dot shook his head, licking his lips.

"I just… I froze up. That's all. I'm not the best at this. I was a reserve sniper, and I only got picked because of a few lucky shots. Shepherd just happened to be there that day, and… like I said. I was lucky."

I shook my head, frowning. "No. Shepherd wouldn't have picked you unless you had skill. Now shut up and we'll move on… _you'll _move on to the one in the window, while I inform assault lead."

"All right," Dot replied. "This one I can take…" He shifted to aim at the target, and I clicked my headset again.

"Assault lead, are you in position to move against tangos on the left side of the building? We have taken out the last of the visible tangos-" which was now true- "and you need to take them out before breaching the building."

There was a short pause before I heard, "Uh, we may have a small problem over here. An enemy patrol _may _have sighted us; maintain radio silence until I give the all-clear, over and out."

I nodded my head, and turned to Dot. "You hear that? Assault team ran into a bit of a bust. Should we watch?" I was fingering the button on my visor. "I mean, if they start coming near us, we'll switch back…" I needed to know what was happening. I didn't hear any gunfire, which I took as a good sign.

"Uh, yeah, let's switch." With that elegant response from Dot, we pushed the red buttons on our respective visors and got comfortable.


	4. First Mission Shakes, Part the Second

NO REVIEWS MAKES ME VERY DISCOURAGED! How do I know anyone's reading this? What if I'm writing to ghosts? What I'm trying to say is, please review. Please.

* * *

"Assault team, stay down," Rolls hissed. He and his team were laying down, and a three-man Russian patrol was walking in front of them. They were armed with those weird Akbar things, newest models. Well, we didn't care. We had gotten lucky; the listening post had been abandoned, and the Spetsnaz troops had taken it over. What they _didn't _know was that we had had a cloaked base already attached to the cliff.

They had their weapons pointed to the ground, and they were walking slowly by. Rolls glared at them as they passed, and the rest of the team slowly, carefully drew their silenced side arms, L106A1 Sig Sauer pistols with a protective finish. Once the men had passed, Lance, Spectre, and Rolls stood up and quickly fired on the men, hitting the weak point of their armor, the neck. Three shots were fired, three men were dropped.

I spoke into the radio, "Damn. Assault lead, you and your team are clear to take out tangos in blindspot, over. Once they are neutralized, you can breach and clear the building, over."

I saw Rolls nod his head, and he muttered, "Roger, sniper lead. Neutralizing tangos now. Assault lead out." With that, he signaled to the rest of the team to stand. They all bent double and drew their Enfields. The entire team dashed to the front wall of the listening post and hugged the walls.

"Assault team, in position," Rolls mumbled. "One man under each of the two windows, two on the front door, two around the back. Are you ready to breach?" After a short pause with no objections, he said, "Alright, then. Let's do this." He and his partner, Lance, spun and kicked in the front door. I couldn't really see much of what happened, but in the end all nine men inside the post were dead.

"Any casualties?" Rolls shouted, looking hurriedly from side to side. "Anyone hit?" No one replied, and he said "Alright, good. Form up on me. Now, all we have to do is clear out the bodies and let the U.S. Army Rangers move in to occupy the building. Let's go. Archer, Dot, head back down to the temp HQ and debrief the General."

"Yes, sir!" I replied with a grin. We had done it. My first mission in the Task Force had been a perfect success.

* * *

Well, that's it this time around. Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Lost Brothers

Year: Two years after his first mission with the TF141  
Month: September  
Day: Twentieth  
Time: 0500 hours  
Location: One of the Task Force Permanent Bases, in Alaska. Near Chukotka Peninsula and Bering Strait  
SitRep: Every member of the Task Force has known this would happen for a while. Russia has discovered the Task Force's existence, and is sending troops across both the Bering Strait and Chukotka Peninsula.

I sat in the briefing room with the rest of my original team. This was quite an occasion, and we were all in our finest business wear. Shepherd had made two announcements: One, we were under attack. Two, we were losing two members of the Task Force.

The General walked in, his .44 Magnum on his hip as usual. "Gentlemen. I am sorry to say that it has come to my attention that our Task Force has not been operating at maximum efficiency. Well, it has also come to my attention that we may increase this efficiency by… discharging certain members. Those discharged will, of course, be given full retirement benefits- unless you choose to return to your military outfit. Hell, we have enough clearance to let you join in-at your previous ranks-to any military unit in the USA and UK."

"Now, two staff members will be leaving us today." He walked over to where Dot sat at the long table and placed his hands on the man's shoulders. "I'm… so sorry. Dot, you'll be leaving us today. Soldier, you'll be remembered." He then walked over to Lance and placed his hands on that man's shoulders. "Soldier… you will be missed." He then walked to the head of the table and said, "Those discharged will have three days to pack their things. I'll have to ask you to leave now. I'm sorry, but this briefing is classified."

I was totally beside myself. First he fires them, then he mistrusts them? Fine. Let him do what he wants. Dot got up and calmly walked out, but I noticed Lance shaking slightly.

"All right. The Russians are moving in. They're coming from the Bering Strait and the Chukotka Peninsula. The Chukotka Peninsula will lead them straight to the Seward Peninsula, in other words… straight to us. The Bering Strait will take them to the east of us, and we need to meet them. This, gentlemen, is a full invasion plan. We can, however, nip it at the bud. We will be having help from the U.S. Army Rangers, Marines, M16, RAF, SAS, and SOCOM. The United States and the UK are cooperating, and we will be allies, of course, is there is a war. We plan to stop this war from happening, however."

"We will go with SOCOM, M16, and the SAS. The RAF will only be sending air elements, and the Marines and Rangers will hold the line at the Bering Strait and the road leading from that. Gentlemen, have you ever walked out of this base and taken a look out at the body of water in front of us? That is the Bering Sea, as many of you know. They will take a straight route with the recon element of their forces. That direct route will lead them to us, and we think that those recon forces will be in Delga-1 Fast Attack Vehicles and on foot. No air elements are being detected yet, but they may send those as well."

"The main bulk of their forces will come down the Bering Strait, and then move onto the ground just east of us, as I said. Thus, this is a two-pronged attack. Obviously, the recon elements will come first. We will eliminate those, cutting off the Russians from their intel. We will then pull back to our HQ, with the other special forces doing the same. The Marines and Rangers _shouldn't _need help, but we will provide fire support if needed. Is that understood?"

Every man in that room (all four of us) stood up and saluted. "SIR, YES, SIR!" The roar resounded through the room, and we were dismissed. The instant I got out of that room, I dashed over to Dot's room. The living quarters in this base were simple; at the lowest level, and down a long hallway that had a whole bunch of doors. Each door had a plaque on it with each agent's callsign; not name. I walked up to the one labeled, in strictly neat letters, DOT, and walked in unceremoniously.

Dot was angrily throwing clothes into his suitcase, the compartments of the drawers strewn across the floor. Most of his clothes were already in the bag, but he hadn't packed anything else yet. "Holy _shit _man, you okay? You don't look so hot." His face was red, and slicked with sweat… or were those tears? Dot had been through a lot of shit, but I had never once seen him cry.

Dot looked up at me, biting his lower lip. "Heh, thanks. That's exactly what I need to hear right now."

"Come on, man, you know what I meant. Take a break. Sit on the bed and we'll, uh… we'll talk. I mean, come on. He can't _actually _be firing you. This must be one of those surprise training exercises; any minute now the klaxon will go off and we'll be 'under attack' and if you don't help, you'll have to do ITs in front of the whole team or something."

Dot sat down on a relatively empty space of his cot and clasped his head in his hands. I sat down next to him, and he said, "This was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I met new people, specifically you, I got paid a whole helluva lot more than I did before, my family got retirement benefits, and I didn't have to trudge through knee-high snow and sleep in the cold like I did back on the front lines. And now, you have some ultra-secret mission and I can't even hear about it? That's bull. Shepherd's a bastard."

I agreed with everything he had just said, especially the last part. So I told him so. "Look, Dot, we can… we can fight this. We can… well, I don't know what we can do, exactly, but we'll figure something out! God damn it, he didn't even give you a chance! I mean, we can, we should…" I trailed off, simply outraged at what that bastard had had the nerve to do.

After a short period of silence, Dot asked, "So. Can you tell me what this mission is?" My blood went cold. Should I? I knew Shepherd had the ability to bug our rooms, but would he? Ah, repercussions be damned. Dot was my friend. So I told him. Everything. And when I was done, his mouth hung open as if he were a fish gasping for air.

"You mean- you mean we're almost at world war three and I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT IT? Jesus _Christ _man, Shepherd can't just- just stonewall me like this! I mean, I've been part of this unit for two damned years! Now he doesn't trust me enough to tell me the state our goddamned world is? I'm just… alright. Zen. Thanks, Archer, you can go now."

I nodded at the dismissal and walked out, frowning. He'd been so happy just yesterday, enjoying a day off in the bar with the rest of us. The team had been the same since the start, and now, with two less members, how are we supposed to stop a fucking invasion?

I shook my head and walked into the room, pushing the door labeled ARCHER aside- and stopped as a small note fluttered down from where it had been taped to the inside of it. I bent over to pick it up, slightly suspicious, and read, in Shepherd's own handwriting:

_Ruskies coming in six days. Be prepared; four new team members coming in four._

I glared at the note in my hand, as if I could change the words with the ferocity of my stare. It didn't work. I crumpled the paper and tossed it in the wastepaper basket, not caring that I missed and it flopped down to the floor. I lied down on the bed and simply stared at the ceiling, waiting for the tears to come. Two years ago, they would have, for I was losing a friend; now, they didn't, leaving my eyes dry. Damned Task Force had hardened me; now I was only angry.

Two Days Later, In Front of the Plane to Escort Discharged Team Members to Their Destinations

Dot stared at me, a hand on my shoulder. "I'll miss you, man. I'd ask for a cell phone number, but hell, it's not like you'd have much time. I'll contact you late- actually, you don't officially exist. You call me, eh?"

I smiled at Dot, who seemed almost happy; the cheerfulness was very out of place. His mood should match the landscape; bleak and barren. Indeed, today there was a blizzard raging, fucking with my senses beyond belief. For instance, although Dot was smiling, it looked like there was a tear running down his face. That couldn't be it, though, so I said, "Dot. I'll… find a way. Don't get yourself shot out there, eh? And, uh… take this." I pulled out the medal I had received three years ago, one that read, "For Long Service and Good Conduct". The metal was black, and it wasn't too special, but it was perhaps the most prized possession I had with me.

I pressed it into Dot's hand and muttered, "I'll be expecting this back when I find you. Okay? Keep it safe." There was no question now; Dot was crying, but silently and composedly. He nodded to me and snapped a crisp salute to the other team members. Lance had been given a pep talk by none other than Mech, and the two discharged soldiers walked over to each other. They saluted one another and they walked up the short, deployable staircase into the plane. The plane itself was a small one, and it had soon reached optimal velocity, raised its landing gear and flown out of Alaska, out of the storm, and out of sight.

* * *

I'd like to thank my first, and only, reviewer, Mirai M. Mieux. I award thee three cyber cookies.


	6. Gentlemen, We've A  Among Us

I know it's short, but I really really wanted to end it like this. Enjoy and review... unless you want a Spetsnaz Armed Forces Group to get sent to your house... which you don't...

Also, once again, thank you Mirai. And, a new reviewer, VerityA! I should like to give you all cyber cookies, but... I burned the batch... :'(

* * *

Year: Two years after Archer's first mission with the Task Force  
Month: September  
Day: Twenty-sixth  
Time: 0600  
SitRep: Four new team members are scheduled to arrive at 0620. Archer had been training hard on the firing ranges, and has pulled into himself, ignoring his teammates' attempts to cheer him up. He's not overly-enthusiastic about the new team members.

Archer stood at a strict attention stance, standing in a line with the rest of his team. Shepherd had been pacing up and down the damn line for the past couple of minutes, his eyes meeting no one else's- except Archer's. He had given Archer a single, cold, piercing stare that seemed to look into the very depths of his soul.

Archer tried to keep his teeth from chattering. They were wearing their dress outfits so as to look presentable- but damn were they thin. Shepherd paced for what had to be four minutes before he stopped in the center of the row.

"Gentlemen, our new team members will be here in precisely fifteen minutes. I know that some of you have lost friends recently, and I apologize for that. I know that these men can, in no way, replace our lost comrades, but we need more members. Soon our Task Force will be at eight, which is more than we have ever needed. One of these men is a proficient sniper, while the others excel in combat. One of them specializes in close combat weapons, such as pistols and knives. The other two are jacks-of-all-trades. Men, we will treat them as if they have been with us since the start. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" All of us men shouted, saluting in unison. We looked behind him as the small plane- the same one that had flown our comrades, our friends, out of this base- flew in and taxied on the runway, stopping directly parallel to where we stood. It took a while, but the door opened and the stairs folded out. The four men jogged down the stairs, standing in a row across from ours and saluted.

They stepped forward one by one, each speaking in turn. The first was a tall, blonde, well-built man, wearing a black suit with medals awarded by SOCOM (Special Operations Command). His hair was actually pretty long, although not annoyingly so. He shouted, "Callsign Gecko, specialization sniper, sir!" He then walked over to the leftmost end of our line and stood at attention.

The next man stepped forward, this one a short, thick man with red hair. This was in a buzz cut, and he had muttonchops and a short beard. Stereotypical to the max. His suit was adorned with medals from the _Sciathán Fianóglach an Airm_, or Army Ranger Wing. Irish special forces, the ARW was top-of-the-line shit. "Callsign Broadsword, specialization close combat, sir!" Snapping a salute, he walked over and stood by Gecko.

The next man, a tall, wiry man with black, greasy hair, walked out. He had badges from- holy shit! This guy was a UKSOS! The United Kingdom Special Operations Specialists were the cream of the god-damned crop! Their motto was, _"A blade in the dark and a well placed bullet replace an entire squad of soldiers"_, and boy was it true. When the UKSOS was doing it, anyway. He stepped forward and spoke with a pronounced British accent, "Callsign Spectacle, specialization stealth assault, sir." His voice wasn't raised above a whisper, although we could hear every word, He just radiated that; using just what he needed, not an ounce more.

The final man stepped out, and I wasn't expecting anything to give me a bigger shock than I had just had- I was wrong. The man was fairly tall, fairly dark skinned, and had brown hair. He was well-built, nothing wrong with the way he walked. He was simply out of place. "Callsign Sergei, specialization full-assault." His voice was soft, nothing wrong there. What was wrong, however, was his accent.

Gentlemen, we've a Russian among us.


	7. Intro to Hell

Sigh. A true man wears his mistakes on his front with his achievements on his back, so... I can't count for shit.  
**DAMN STRAIGHT.  
**A-Archer?  
**Bloody hell. So, go on... tell 'em what you did.  
**Odd... okay, well, I've been saying that there were only four men left. This is untrue. You see, when I started writing there were eight people. Eight minus two is six, not four, so... yeah. I just went on in this chapter like I never made that mistake, okay?  
**No.  
**Yeah? UP YOURS.  
**I'll shoot you in your fugly face you dickless son of a-  
**RIGHT, sorry about that... he's violent sometimes. I'd like to thank the following:

Mirai, I like him too. Although my favorite is the Irish bare-knuckles boxer... as I think of him.  
VerityA, thank you very much. I give it the same rating XD  
AG Acid... uh. Him being a Russian is a bad thing, since the opposing force is Russia... yeah. I like Archer too.

Thanks, guys. Keep reviewing and I'll keep writing, deal?

* * *

The entire line of veterans broke out into shouts, Rolls drawing his sidearm (which he wasn't supposed to have) and Shepherd screaming for order. Finally, the old General drew his ever-present .44 Magnum and fired a shot straight up in the air. This quieted us all down, and Shepherd slowly loaded another round into his gun. He seemed to relish the dramatic effect…

"As all of you seem to have noticed, we've a Russian among us. He is a liaison for the Russian Militia, AKA The True Red Army. Come inside, to the briefing room and I'll explain in deeper detail." He sighed, waving a hand to tell us to go in. He also waved the pilot out, and the drone of the plane's engines was cut off as they shut the thick door behind them.

"Sir, I object to-" Rolls started, but was quickly cut off by Shepherd.

"No, you don't. The liaison is perfectly safe; he is simply here to assure us that _some _of Russia is allied with the US and UK. If you shoot him, I'll shoot you. Simply put." They reached the briefing room and sat down, once more, around that long table. With the new additions, they had ten members, not including Shepherd. "You see… This'll take a while." He sighed and buried his head in his hands.

"This whole war… was a mistake. You all remember that day, about two years ago, that Blerten Air Force Base was assaulted. Well, rewind three months. Two years and three months ago, the President of the Russian Federation was assassinated. Now, this is one of the very, _very _few instances where the killer was not apprehended. Upon further inspection of the crime scene, they discovered a hotel room, set up with radio jamming equipment, other electronics that would not only fool sensors but make them believe the room was there but unoccupied, and a weapon. The man who did this was not sloppy by any means; all of this equipment was American-made. He purposely left his equipment behind in order to blame the United States. The slug casing was also left behind; a 243 Winchester. This ties into two things; one. It is fired from a hunting rifle; the President of the United States gave a speech exactly three weeks before this happened. The closing lines were: "We shall hunt our enemies down!" Anyone closely analyzing the situation would make note of this. And, two. The bullet used is recommended for killing bears… do I need to elaborate on that?"

He didn't, and he paused to put a cigar in his mouth. Unlit, as usual. "Very well. This… incident gave Russia a reason to believe America was at fault here. Thus, the stealth jet was used. It was supposed to scope us out, pick up any radio chatter, check any troop movements; it was not attacking. When we guided her down, Russia knew they had to get her back. So, they launched the assault, going on a gamble; America had, in there eyes, assassinated their president. When we took that as an act of war, Russia realized that we weren't prepared for a battle; they realized their mistake. However, they continued fighting, simply because they felt they had to. Now, most of the politicians are corrupted, and most government officials believe that America was at fault. This war has been going on for two years over a mistake, and most citizens in Russia know it. Thus, the TRA formed. Now, they are attempting to aid America in defending the invasion; if Russia takes control of America, the UK is next. Then, the war is over, and Russia is the number one superpower."

Shepherd sighed. "That's all I know. Now, hit the firing range in pairs; Rolls, you take Gecko, Mech, you take Broadsword, Flip, you take Gecko, and… Archer, you take Sergei. All the rest of you are on your own; DISMISSED!"

Everyone stood and roared back, "SIR, YES, SIR!" I walked over to Sergei; the poor guy was biting his lower lip and staring at his shoes. I felt bad for the bastard; he'd done nothing wrong. He was just a surprise… and the Task Force didn't like surprises.

"Sergei, your with me. Which do you prefer, the long-range… range, the close combat range, or the obstacle course?" I extended a hand and muttered, "Archer. Sniper."

The man looked surprised, his eyebrows raised. "Uh, Sergei… that's my name, not a callsign. Uh, what's the obstacle course like?" Oh, he would like the obstacle course… if he was insane, like me, that is.

A couple of minutes later, I had led him there… and he didn't look so sure of himself. No one in their right mind would; the place was called HellHole to all who knew it. It started on a high ledge; you jumped from the ledge, and moved forward to where the first few targets were. There were crates scattered around, and the targets were shaped like men. They were cardboard, and riddled with bullet holes; when shot, they flew backwards into the ground. After that first set of targets are downed, a door springs open from an apparent wall. You proceed into the building, where more targets pop up, some of these holding hostages. If you hit the hostages, you lose time. You run up the staircase, take out more targets, then "blow up" (with a small circle of clay that looks exactly like a small explosive, but really just knocks down the cardboard when thrown at it) the "steel" door barring your way. You proceed to run through a (fake) minefield, where each "mine" stepped on takes away time. You run into a circle, and pray you passed. Because if you didn't… you retry it until you do.

"Welcome to the HellHole, Sergei. It's pretty self explanatory, actually; shoot enemies, don't shoot friendlies. Whatever your time is determines how much I'll like you- just messing with you. If you don't, however, make it in three minutes on your first try, you redo it until you do. Understood? There are some confusing parts; just adapt to the situation and _don't waste time_ thinking. Okay?" I clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, "I'm sure you'll do fine. Unless, of course, you don't. In which case… we'll probably be here for a while." I smiled and unlocked the weapon case, which had pistols, SMGs, shotguns, and light machine guns.

Sergei walked over to the case and selected a Browning L9A1 pistol, loading it and taking three extra mags. I wondered what would happen when he ran out, which he most certainly was, but I was going to let him learn on his own. I hadn't been cushioned by Division Twelve, and I wouldn't cushion him. He walked over to the edge of the ledge, and looked back at me. "I'll start the timer once you jump." I grasped the stopwatch and walked over to the small box that was all one-sided windows. He would see his reflection while I would see him. The booth had a surveillance camera in the room, and you could watch the rest of it because it went in a small circle.

He leapt off of the edge and I hit the button. Sergei hit the ground and stumbled, almost falling over. The first five targets popped up, and he shot twoof them before missing the third. He cursed, and hit the last three before the door popped open. Unfortunately, he didn't notice this until he had finished reloading, and by that time about thirty seconds had passed. He ran inside and ten targets popped up, three of which had hostages in front of them. I switched to watching the surveillance feed, and saw him stab the target closest to the door. He then shot four more, and was aiming for the fifth when he tripped. He hit the ground and his pistol went skidding across the ground, with him crawling after it. He rolled, picked it up, and fired at the last two hostage-less targets. He then took careful aim, shot the "bad guys" and ran over to the door.

I keyed the intercom and shouted, "Grab the explosive charge on the table and throw it at the door!" He looked startled to start with, before grabbing the clay ball and hurling it at the cardboard door. The door crumpled, and he dashed through it, grinding to a halt at the minefield. He high-kneed it across, not stomping on one. He stopped in the circle and I stopped the timer. Holy crap.

I hopped down the steps out of the booth and ran over to him "Hey. You got, uh… damn. Two minutes and fifty-eight seconds. Good job. Let's head over to the long-range firing range and see how good you are with a scoped weapon, alright?" And it went on like this until 0930, where we headed to the mess hall for breakfast.

* * *

How'd you like it? I like Sergei, too, poor guy. If you need clearing up on the basis of the war, just tell me and I'll re-write it.


End file.
